"Thaddeus Duke."


"I'm going to be completely honest with you right now, I am not myself at this current moment, so I apologize for any and all errors in my rationale or reasoning. You see, my wife tragically perished recently... and even simply saying those words - aloud, feels like I'm being... gutted. Eviscerated. Disemboweled. Like I'm Dillinger D'Marco's 782nd victim and he's just stabbed his giant fucking sword; that's capable of slicing the very fabric of reality, straight in through my stomach and out my back. Thus resulting in my bloody carcass falling to the ground in a heap."


"That is how I feel about the situation."


"My wife is dead... she was beheaded, of course that's how I feel."


"Abigail didn't deserve that fate. No one does but least of all her. You woulda liked Abigail. Everyone adored her, anyone that came in contact with her, enjoyed her presence. She had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the room, just by talking to you. Her smile and laugh would illuminate your world. Originally, my intentions involving her, weren't so pure. Yeah, I had plans to use her, in order to get close to Azrael, so that my brothers and I could... murder him. There's no easy or proper way to describe that, we were going to destroy Azrael Erebus, live and in the ring, during a wrestling event of some kind."


"Hah!"


"Little did I know, she would wind up influencing me! An interaction that would ultimately lead into uniting Azrael with the Brothers Blackwater. It was all her doing. She convinced us to talk to each other and it was the best choice that I ever made. Because I was gifted with not only a father... but a friend, as well. None of that would have been possible without Abigail. Now she's gone and I'm supposed to move onward. Take care of my son, Arkin and live as I would normally exist, on any given day. Continue forward as an accountant/financial consultant and wrestler."



"I am scheduled to fight this Saturday and do you know what, I don't fucking give a shit."


"I don't give a crap about facing you, Thaddeus. All that bullshit about you being flat out better than me and me catching you with your pants, figuratively down. It's white noise to me, right now. I hear you talking, I understand these words are supposed to mean something and they simply don't. The fight... these promos, they are unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Pointless drivel, meaningless and uninspired. This match doesn't inspire me to compete, Duke. It makes me feel... nothing."


"I didn't care the first time 'round but I care... even less, now. If that's even remotely possible. How do you take the meaning out of something, that was already meaningless and subtract that number by a trillion? When you figure that equation out, you'll have the answer on how much this fight is worth, in the terms of matches and their overall definition in my books."


"Although, there is another opponent in this bout, isn't there? Yeah, there is and I gotta say... he's somehow worth less, than you are. He's not even equal a name at this point... or any point, for that matter. He might as well be called - Wrestler C, cause there isn't a reason to utter his actual name. I assume his career will end after this match and no one will remember. Not even the assholes taking part in combat."


"Where was I going with all this?"


"I don't even know, nor do I care."


"Seriously."


"You could take some old footage of me talking about a previous wrestler that I faced and pretend that it's directed at you, Thaddeus."


"Donovan Blackwater, the performer and showman is gone."


"The hoops have incinerated and the spotlight shorted out."


"I don't care anymore."





Sitting in the hospital, I feel numb. This endeavor is pointless. Meaningless. Abigail was beheaded. She was violently decapitated by an explosive collar, it's not like the doctors are going to give her a new head. There's no way to fix the tragedy that befell her. So what am I even doing here? I feel like I'm gradually losing my grasp onto sanity, the way that a man desperately clinging to the edge of a cliff would hang on for dear life, during a fierce rainstorm. It's procedure though. a violent crime occurred and that means they had to investigate. Because y'know... it is possible that I revoked my wife of her head. That's why I'm fucking traumatized and barely holding onto my sanity. Cause I'm also nuts and a vicious, cold blooded murderer, with no regard for the damage an event like that would have on my son's mind. Nah, I orchestrated the whole thing and set it up so that it seemed like I was attempting to rescue my wife and son, when in reality, I was the mastermind, evil genius behind it all. Much like Lux assumed that I craved, I'm really the villain in the stage play called life.


On top of investigating my wife's tragic demise, there are people currently questioning my son. Arkin is three years old and they've been talking to him for a good thirty minutes. This was madness and yet, I couldn't do anything to stop it. I had to comply. This was because I wield powers and wasn't a hundred percent human. The police knew that, the doctors and nurses understood that, everyone was fully aware that I have the ability to control an invisible force. With nothing more than a mere wave of my hand, I can cause massive amounts of destruction. That makes me a threat and gives probable cause to the fact that I might be the monster that committed the crime. Doesn't matter if that concept was utterly insane and totally false. I was a powerful force of nature that challenged their concept of reality. I could have used my abilities to kill Abigail because in their world, it was theoretically possible. That's why when they engage me or pass me in the hall, there's fear in their eyes. It was ridiculous but that's the prejudices that a being like me faces, when the truth comes out and people realize what you are. What you are capable of realistically doing. When folks stop viewing you as an equal living being existing on the planet, right along with them and start looking at you, like you're an abomination.


"Donovan Blackwater?"


My attention quickly snapped from the captivating sight that was the white, linoleum tiled floor and rose toward the source that's summoned my focus.





There's something vaguely familiar about the man but at that current moment, I couldn't figure out why that would be the case? He looks like another cop though.


"Yay! More police. Lucky me."


The man cleared his throat.


"Yeah, more police. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Detective Mick Ashcroft. They wanted me to go over your statement, one more time. Actually, I offered to do it. You see, I'm a friend of your father's, we go back quite a bit."


"That's great. Really. Maybe you could see about getting me out of here then? Letting me go? So I can take my son home, opposed to me sitting here with my dick in my hand, while he's being interrogated. Arkin is only three years old. This isn't right."


"They only want to be thorough."


"Thorough? What the fuck?!?! Enough is enough, man! He's three!"


"You're bloody right, enough is enough and I fully intend to bring your son back to you, so that you can go home. First, I need to talk to you about what happened. What went down on that rooftop."


"Like I told twenty million other cops. An evil, alien bitch, named Zelena beheaded my wife with an exploding collar, directly in front of my son. He was splattered in her blood. It was the worst thing that I've ever witnessed in my entire life. An image that I'll never forget. Then Zelena vanished. Which is fortunate for her because she would be very dead, right now, if she didn't up and disappear into thin air."


"How did you know that she was an alien?"


"She gave me a rundown of her history with Azrael. Besides that, she had powers and a weird crystal on a silver chain, that granted her the ownership of whatever possession she desired."


"Interesting. And you witnessed her using these powers and the crystal, first hand?"


He peered attentively into my eyes and for a moment, I was reminded of Zelena, reading my thoughts. Although, this was far less intrusive and seemed closer to him attempting to gauge my reaction to his question.


"Yes, she used the amulet on me. To captivate my attention, in order to gain an audience with me because she said I wouldn't be a willing participant in the discussion, otherwise. She was right. She abducted my wife and son. Damn straight, I wasn't there to talk. I was there to rescue Abigail and Arkin. In the end, I failed to save my wife. I fucking failed her and now, I'm being treated like the criminal. Do you know how infuriating that is? Huh? To already feel like a piece of shit and then have people talk to you like you're a god damn, murderer. Like you're responsible for the death of someone that you adore, above all else? I love my wife... loved my wife, I would have never done anything to hurt her. Would've destroyed myself, before ever bringing any kind of harm upon her. Despite popular opinion... I didn't kill my wife!"


The floor trembled, shook with a force akin to an earthquake overtaking it. I took a deep breath and lifted my eyes to the heavens. Lord, give me strength. The shaking ceased and I turned my focus back to Mick. He appeared sympathetic. That was all well and good but it didn't help me one bit. I just wanted to leave that place and go home.


"I believe you."


"You believe me? No one in this entire hospital believes me but you do?"


"Yeah... well, lets just say I have a certain knack for fishing out the truth and there isn't an ounce of deceit, in your words. If you were lying, even in the slightest, I would know."


"You got that from hearing me speak?"


"That and looking you in the eye. Catching your gaze and keeping it. It's called compulsion and I've become something of an expert; when wielding the ability, over the years."


"Right. You said that you know my father. I should have realized that you wielded some sort of powers. It's rare for him to know someone that doesn't have a special ability or gift. It's like he's magnetically drawn to them. Which is weird because he knows someone with the ability to control things magnetically. So what are you? An advanced human? Alien? Sorcerer? Demon? Werewolf? Creature of the fucking black lagoon?"


"Ah... nothing of the sort, mate. I'm simply a bloke that took a wrong turn down an alleyway, one night. Two hundred and sixty four years ago. Now I keep the streets of New York safe."


"Fair enough. Can you return my son to me now?"


"Absolutely. I will do precisely that. Follow me."


Detective Mick Ashcroft, strolled down the corridors of the hospital with me, following along in tow. Till he came to a random door, for a moment, it almost seemed like he was sniffing the air, while listening. Although, I couldn't hear what he might've been hearing or smelling. It was strange but I wanted to locate my son and if this is what it took, then so be it. After several seconds, Mick pushed open the door, revealing my son, a doctor and a policeman.


Unlike Mick, the policeman was in full uniform. Walking up to the cop, Mick spoke quietly and quickly as he stared directly into the man's eyes. It almost seemed as if the uniformed cop was mesmerized. Entranced by Mick's words, while the detective spoke them. During this peculiar act, the doctor was clearly taken aback. At first, he appeared confused and non-compliant but one swift glance from Mick and he was on board with Mick's idea. Both men completely in agreement with discharging my son, permuting me with free passage to exit the hospital. Then Mick looked at my son and smiled, speaking in a friendly tone.


"Right then. Are you ready to go home, little one?"


With sleepy eyes and sluggish, listless mannerisms, Arkin merely nodded and got to his feet. Doing his best impression of a zombie, he walked up to me and took a hold of my hand. I responded by bending over and picking him up. His head instantly resting on my chest, I carried him from the room.


"So that's it then, I can go home? There's nothing more that I need to do or say?"


"Your ordeal is far from over but none of it will involve the police questioning you. At least, not about the recent events that transpired. Go home, get some rest and I'll be in touch. There's still the matter of the evil, alien bitch to settle and you have my word, I will do everything in my power to see that she answers for her crimes."


"Believe me, you won't be the only one looking for her."


"No, I don't imagine that I will be. You take care, Donovan Blackwater. If you need anything... anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."


Handing me his card, Mick Ashcroft started his trek down the hallway.


"Wait. Hold up, Mick."


My words halted his movements and he turned back to me, raising a brow in inquiry.


"I gotta ask, you know my father, you say that you're over two hundred years old... what..."


"What am I?"


Stricken by laughter, Mick shook his head.


"Isn't it obvious?"


Suddenly his eyes became pools of obsidian. Endless, black voids. Fixated above a clever smirk. As a frigid gust of air, filtered through the corridor. The lights overhead fluctuated and flickered. While it felt like death itself, stood behind me. Its icy grip, clutching the back of my neck. I felt frightened, yet fascinated, at the same instant. Gazing upon a being that I knew, with every fiber of my essence, held the gift of immortality in the palm of his hand. His very existence, meant that he cheated death and at the same time, he wasn't the least bit alive. An ancient race of everlasting life, through death, he held a position within the ranks of the supernatural, impossible. A monster in a tan trench coat.


"I'm a vampire."

Donovan Blackwater
Former 1x...